


The World’s Still Spinning ‘Round

by myownpatronus



Series: Champagne Supernova [3]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: 1x10, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Past Drug Addiction, Recovery, firehouse family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myownpatronus/pseuds/myownpatronus
Summary: TK makes the decision to get clean for himself for the first time, when he realizes just how important his new found family is.1X10 rewrite. Mostly canon compliant.Follow up to the other two fics in this series, but it's not necessary to have read those first.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Owen Strand & TK Strand
Series: Champagne Supernova [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971712
Kudos: 71





	The World’s Still Spinning ‘Round

**Author's Note:**

> That scene at the firehouse broke me, and reading interviews with Ronen about how he felt like this was one of the most important scenes for TK and his relationship with Owen, the crew, and Carlos made me want to put my spin on it. I agree that it truly is the point where he turns over a new leaf. I've seen this happen with clients at work - an overdose isn't what sets their sobriety in motion, usually it's something smaller and more personally meaningful.

TK wasn’t trying to avoid Carlos’ eyes, or talking about the night in the hospital where Carlos hadn’t left his side. He wasn’t, not _really_ . He was trying to find a way to appreciate the little things, like boba, without having to be high to do so. And, yeah, okay, maybe he _was_ trying to avoid talking to Carlos.

He shouldn’t be thankful for chaos and destruction, but he would take the distraction, the momentary reprieve from the conversation.

No matter what he’d said to his dad about not being sure if this was the life he wanted, his body seemed not to care. He jumped into action without a second thought, only a step behind Carlos. He didn’t even know where to start; years of training and instincts were telling him to assess the scene and determine who was in need of the most urgent assistance - but from where he stood, everyone was in need. The traffic lights were going crazy, cars getting into near misses or worse. Pedestrians had to jump out of the way of more than one car that jumped the curb while swerving to avoid traffic.

And then a city bus flipped. Right in front of him. He felt like he was watching it in slow motion.

He and Carlos moved together, like a single unit. Carlos began directing traffic, attempting to make order from the chaos. Meanwhile, TK ran to the bus and made sure all the riders got off safely.

All but one. He heard the groan and quickly found the bus driver pinned beneath the twisted metal frame of the bus.

He tried to pull her out, but could see the twisted metal of the bus pinning her down. Even worse, when the bus had flipped, it had crashed into a fire hydrant. Water was now flooding into the bus at an alarming rate. 

TK didn't need to pause, to think, to plan his actions. He simply set to work, trying to pry Ellen free from the metal pinning her down.

He quickly realized that he'd need some sort of tools to help counterbalance and lift the metal, so he assessed the available materials. The bus itself might be useless for its intended purposes, but it had plenty of other uses to TK. He ran outside and pried the bumper off. He didn't know where the strength was coming from. He couldn't feel anything. All he knew what the single-minded determination to get Ellen off of the bus.

He ran back on board and found that his makeshift tools were working far better than his hands alone could. But of course, nothing could be that easy. Ellen pointed to the blood on his chest and TK temporarily remembered that he was still recovering from a gunshot.

"It's fine," he told her, "a few stitches probably just popped." He realized that the adrenaline coursing through his body was numbing the pain and keeping him in the moment.

As if one problem, or even two, weren't enough, a fire broke out over TK's head. Despite the water rapidly filling the bus, they were still in danger of the flames. He briefly abandoned his attempts to free Ellen to attempt to put out the fire. But it wasn't enough. Water continued rising. TK's limbs were becoming tired. Smoke clouded the air.

Ellen's head fell below the surface of the water.

TK knew it was near impossible, Ellen knew it was over, but that didn’t stop him. Barely able to breathe himself through the thick smoke, TK dove underwater to continue tending to the drowning, trapped woman, who was doing her best to push him away and get him to save himself.

He wouldn’t. If he’d been brought back from the brink this many times, it had to be for a reason, no matter how little stock he put in religion or the supernatural. He wasn't going to let someone else go without a fight.

It was as if that realization finally broke the numbing power of the adrenaline, and he suddenly felt _everything._ His lungs were protesting, both from the recent injury and the toxic air. His chest ached where the stitches had ripped apart and bled openly. He dove down again, to attempt to keep Ellen alive until he could figure out a way to free her. Her protests weakened, but he wouldn’t stop to think that he could lose her because he can’t lose her - 

And then it’s not just Ellen pushing him away, but someone else was pulling him back.

He tried to protest, struggling to free himself from the stranger _because there is someone else who needs his help_ \- but he was weak.

He barely even noticed that he was lying on the pavement. He must have blacked out for a moment, because there was an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and his dad hovered over him, rubbing his back. The bus was mere feet away from him, and he could see that the crew of the 126 managed to do what he couldn’t do alone. They’d extracted Ellen and she was on a stretcher heading towards an ambulance.

He didn’t even stop to think - and maybe that was a sign that over-thinking was his problem - but got up and tore off the mask and shoved his dad’s comforting hand away. He needed to touch Ellen, to see her breathing, to know that he didn’t let her down.

Once she was in the ambulance, the last ten minutes caught up to him and he collapsed into his father’s arms, allowing himself to be loaded into another ambulance.

* * *

TK got a stern talking-to from the ER doctor who told him he shouldn’t be doing any physical activity for at least another week while he has stitches and a still-healing gun wound in his chest, and he _definitely_ shouldn’t be exposing himself to infection. But it was a minor wound compared to everything else going on around him, and he’d inhaled plenty of smoke in his time, so he was low on the list of concerns and was discharged soon after.

He was surprised to find Carlos waiting for him outside the ER.

“I thought you were going in to work to help out with everything?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Carlos said. “Are you?”

TK rolled his eyes, and gently bumped Carlos’ shoulder with his uninjured one. “I’m fine,” he said. “Happy to see you.”

The blush rising up Carlos’ cheekbones was adorable.

“Since you’re here, do you think you’d be able to give me a ride home? I’d rather not get on another bus after that.”

“You know I’m not an Uber, right?” Carlos said, but he still opened the door for TK and guided him towards his cruiser.

* * *

After the absolutely insane last several days, TK was happy to lie on the couch. He wouldn’t tell anyone, and especially not his dad or Carlos, but he still ached. There was a constant dull throbbing in his shoulder and even though getting up and doing things took his mind off of it, it also made it hurt worse later when he finally stopped. 

It surprised him when he realized that he _didn’t_ want to take something to numb the pain, to take his mind off of the present, to escape to a different world.

Well, maybe he needed an ibuprofen or two for the physical pain.

When TK woke again, it was early in the morning. His neck ached from the awkward position he’d fallen asleep in on the couch, his shoulder throbbed, and he could smell the smoke and water and sweat on his body from the day before. He took a quick shower, taking special care around the still-healing wound on his chest, and dressed for the day.

The city was recovering admirably from the chaos of the previous days and he chose to enjoy it to the fullest by walking to the station. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but something was different.

Something about him.

He liked it.

It was obvious when he arrived at the 126 that the crew had just returned from a call. They all looked tired, and TK assumed that they’d been out most, if not all, of the previous night. Yet despite their obvious exhaustion, everyone brightened up when he walked into the station.

He got the same feeling, deep in his gut, that he’d had when he saw Carlos waiting for him outside the ER yesterday. It felt like home.

"Aquaman!" Mateo greeted. "Good to see you back here."

"When are you coming back for real?" Marjan asked. "Did the doctor give you an update?"

"That's actually why I'm here," TK said. "I - uh - I wanted to talk to you all about something. Tell you guys something."

TK could feel his father's presence behind him, and took comfort in that.

"I used to think that I always wanted to be a firefighter, like my dad. But I recently realized that I only started because I wanted to understand what it was that drove my dad away from home. It wasn't his fault, but after 9/11, he had to put so much of his energy into rebuilding his station. I wanted to understand why. So I followed in his footsteps. After I got shot, well... I started thinking that maybe this isn't right for me. But yesterday, I didn't even think. I just acted, and it felt good. And when I couldn't save Ellen by myself, you guys were there for me. You guys are my family."

He paused, took in a deep breath, readying himself for what he was going to say next. Owen, possibly sensing what would come next, reached forward a hand and squeezed TK's shoulder lightly. TK let himself gather strength from his father.

"And if you're my family, you deserve to know... I'm an addict. Opiates, mostly. I tried to pretend that it wasn't a problem, but it was. My dad - my _captain_ \- has had to pull me from the brink more than a few times. I overdosed right before we came here - that's actually why he decided to take the job and move us. I've had a hard time getting sober, and I've relapsed more than I'd like to admit. But I think that here, and now, I'm finally in a place where I want to stay clean for myself and for my family - for you guys.

"I might be addicted to the adrenaline rush of firefighting, too, but I know that you guy have my back so I'll never have to worry about losing myself again. And... actually, that's it. That's all I needed to tell you guys."

There was a deafening silence for only a moment, before it was broken by his crew coming together to hug him, to accept him without judgement. Owen stepped back, allowing this moment to pass for his son without his interference. He'd been there for TK for so long, and now TK finally had others who would have his back, too.

After the rest of the crew dispersed throughout the station - for naps, snacks, showers - he turned to face his dad.

“I don’t think I could ever be more proud of you than I am now,” Owen said.

“There’s something else I need to do,” TK said. 

His dad followed him as he walked into the station proper, waited through the reunion with Buttercup, and followed TK up the stairs to the locker room. Owen said nothing the whole way, letting TK take charge of the situation.

TK took a deep breath before he opened his locker. He rooted around for a minute, pushing aside his protein powder, his dopp kit, and an extra pair of sneakers before he found the three little orange bottles with pills shaking around inside.

“Here,” he said, handing them over to his dad. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about them. I - I didn’t want to admit that I still had a problem. That I wasn’t fine. But I’m gonna go back to the doctor, and I’ll tell him everything and if he still thinks I need to take something, I’ll make sure it’s non-addictive.”

Owen looked at him, eyes glistening.

“God, Dad, don’t cry,” TK said, trying to cut the tension as he felt tears rising in his own eyes.

“I was wrong,” Owen said. “Earlier, when I said I couldn’t be more proud of you. This is - this is everything, TK.” 

One tear slipped down his cheek as he smiled down at his son.

“Ugh, Dad.” TK looked up, blinking quickly to try to stop his own tears.

Neither man could hold back, and soon were embracing tightly. When they finally pulled apart, TK felt that same calm, settled feeling across his entire body.

“Thanks,” he said earnestly.

He spent another hour at the station, curled up with Buttercup on the couch while the rest of the crew regaled him with stories of the calls they’d been on since he was last here. It was perfect, and he loved everything about his family at the station, but he didn’t truly light up until he saw Carlos walk in through the garage and wave in his direction.

In true firehouse fashion, the crew began teasing him as he got up and walked over to his - maybe? - boyfriend. He practically melted into Carlos’ embrace and turned to leave when he was stopped by his father’s voice.

“TK,” Owen smiled at his son and handed back the pill bottles. “You know, there’s a prescription disposal bin at the police precinct.” 

TK looked down at the bottles, then up at his father and Carlos, nodding.

“Yeah, dad,” he said. “That’s a great idea.”


End file.
